"If this were a made-up story, it would begin at night, with a storm blowing and owls hooting and rattling noises under the bed."

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Since you and Crispin are now finished and I have a few hours to kill, how about that shag?” he asked with heavy irony. “Bite me,” I sighed, gathering up the pages. He winked. “Of course. My second-favorite thing to do in bed.

— Jeaniene Frost